Deviant
by JojoLightningfingers
Summary: In which the original three Devil Bats have to stop Agon. It reads much better than it sounds, I promise.
1. Prologue: A Plan

**And here goes the latest project. Bijoux25 and I, having finished Eyeshield 21, figured out that the characters would really kick ass in a Fire Emblem setting. So that's just what we did. It took us months to put the plot together and we're excited to be finally writing it.**

**Note for those unaware: laguz is the race of shapeshifting humans in the FE Tellius world. **

**Onward to greatness!**

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Agon's wrathful roaring hammered on Hiruma's eardrums until he reached a few conclusions. One, it was incredibly annoying and he was tempted to claw apart his opponent's throat to make it stop. Two, he wasn't going to be able to think straight in the morning, if how badly his head was ringing was any indication. If there was a morning for him after this at any rate, he thought to himself, only barely managing to avoid having one of his wings sheared off. Oh, and three. He probably should leave, before the whole damn country woke up and came running to see what the racket was about.

Considering how they were doing right now, he figured they should be going soon, or immediately, or whenever he and Kurita and Musashi managed to land some kind of blow on Agon that would shut him down for a few days at least. Cerberos, foolish wolf that he was, was already out of this fight, bleeding out on the floor. Maybe beyond help.

Agon wasn't intending to give Hiruma any time to muse; the white dragon could see a sinister glow down the black dragon's throat and the muscles of a thick and powerful neck rippling to close off the rest of his body to any backlash. Hiruma turned as quickly as a creature of his size could and started forward at a rumbling, awkward run, making to circle around him. Agon's head jerked, neck extending, and black fire surged from his maw. Had Hiruma not tucked his wings at the last moment, they'd have been burnt sufficiently to dispel any thoughts of flying for a good while. The heat on his back made him move faster, a grin that resembled a feral snarl spreading slowly over draconic features as he saw an opening for them at last.

Musashi, at least, managed to catch on, using a possibly unwitting Kurita as leverage to soar through empty space and land jaws-first on Agon's neck. Saberteeth sunk in as deep as they could; massive paws bashed at Agon's eye to blind him and his neck to keep his grip. The black dragon screamed and reared, reaching up to pull the tiger off as though he were removing a tick. Musashi jerked his head, dropping to the ground with an amply-sized piece of Agon's neck between his teeth. The screaming escalated, to the point where Hiruma thought that he might tear his own ears off to escape it.

The tiger hit the ground as blood started flowing in veritable rivers, spitting the raw hunk of meat out and racing to the exit. Kurita saw opportunity, taking hold of Cerberos's scruff in his jaws and dragging him bodily after Musashi as quickly as he could manage. Agon was still shrieking when Hiruma left and still trying to pursue them, a taloned hand closed over the gushing hole in his neck. Self-preservation must have won out soon after, for Hiruma saw nothing of him after fleeing the tall spire of Shinryuuji's capital city and into the forests beyond, roaring and screeching still throbbing in his temples.

It was nearly two hours before they were finally forced to stop due to fatigue and injury. Kurita dropped Cerberos, panting as the outline of his lion's body wavered and switched into the form of a massive, rotund boy. Hiruma disregarded his whining and Musashi's transformation from tiger to muscular, hard-faced human beside him, instead staring at the much diminished peak of the Shinryuuji capital. His wings and tail retreated into his body, leaving him pale-skinned and elfish in the light of a setting sun.

"So."

Musashi looked up at him from his seat on the ground, dabbing a cut above his eye. Kurita was tending to the wounded Cerberos worriedly, but spared a glance and an inquisitive hum.

"So what are we going to do now? Is that what you were getting ready to ask?" Musashi's tail, ropelike and tufted, twitched agitatedly.

"Hiruma, we can't move until Cerberos gets better or... dies. If we run again, he won't make it." Kurita gave him an anxious look from where he was busy bandaging the wolf's neck with a strip of his shirt.

"I know that, fucking fatty." Hiruma glared, rubbing a stinging cut on a pointed ear absently. "But fucking dreads isn't going anywhere with a chunk like that missing. He'll be out for two weeks at least and then we absolutely have to start moving, Cerberos be damned." Kurita nodded, mollified; Hiruma was at least giving him a chance.

Musashi turned his gaze in the same direction as Hiruma, eyes narrowing. "I hope you have a plan."

The dragon grinned, revealing sharp, white teeth. "I always have a plan."


	2. Chapter 1: The Envoy

**Petenshi: Hey guys! Another chapter! Meet my beta and co-writer, Bijoux25. She will be doing all of the side chapters (Gaiden chapters if you're really a nerd about these sorts of things) and a few chapters for the main plot.**

**Bijoux25: Hey all. I'm the co-planner/to be writer of this fic. Petenshi and I spent like weeks planning this out, and I'm pretty sure we're both completely stoked about writing this. So review please. :3**

**Petenshi: Huh. I usually go by Drago, but Petenshi is good too. Hell, since this is a crossover and I'm not a popular writer, I'm stoked if you just give me views on it. :3 I promise we'll not ramble on these notes every time.**

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Two more days saw the four moving north at an agonizingly slow pace. Cerberos had awoken, but was not able yet to stand on his own, let alone walk or run. The few hours immediately following this were spent arguing fiercely enough to send the birds scattering from the branches that cast shadows on their place of hiding.

Hiruma wanted to leave on the grounds that, now that Cerberos had regained consciousness, Kurita could easily carry the wolf on his back with no harm done. And why not? The more distance they put between themselves and the capital—specifically, between them and Agon—the better their chances of both survival and success became. They had a lot of ground to cover and a rapidly diminishing amount of time to cover it in, and Hiruma didn't want to waste any of it.

Kurita, ever the optimist, wanted to stay until Cerberos had totally recovered. They had the time, he reasoned earnestly, Hiruma had said it would take at least two weeks for Agon to get back on his feet. Surely they could take a few days to let themselves rest. Once everyone was in top shape, they would be able to cover ground much more quickly.

Musashi, while partial to Hiruma's plan, also saw the good in Kurita's suggestions. As he saw it, the choice came down to sacrificing a few days for the increased likelihood that Agon could track them down, or pacing themselves to widen the gap between them at any means. Halfway through trying to work out which method would get the most distance, he realized that Cerberos had spoken not a word or even attempted to revert back to his more human form. He put aside the observation and remained quiet, bringing it up directly after the conflict ended in Hiruma's favor.

Hiruma's first reaction was indifference, Kurita's was confusion. Cerberos lay on the ground, staring straight ahead with a curled lip and a glare directed at nothing. He was still tired, or didn't want to, Hiruma theorized. Musashi knew it wasn't like the white dragon to judge so swiftly; a glance at his eyes revealed nothing but a glimmer of concern. A glimmer was all Musashi needed to see that they had arrived at the same conclusion—he's either sick or he can't.

Hiruma waved it off as no big deal and insisted they get moving. Most of the day was spent at a slow walk, the unbroken Shinryuuji landscape of mountain-bordered plains sluggishly passing by. They traveled in silence; Musashi was acting as watch for the moment and needed to remain vigilant, Kurita concentrated on keeping Cerberos on his back while maintaining a steady gait, and Hiruma was lost in his own thoughts and simulated scenarios. The fact that one of their number had apparantly lost his ability to transform really wasn't a big concern as far as he could see. People would take him as either a large dog or a bodyguard, neither of which were too far off the mark to begin with. The problem now was staying away from Agon and his crew for long enough to—

"Hiruma." Musashi laid a hand on his shoulder to keep him from going on, tugging him from his inner deliberations. He glanced up with an eyebrow cocked in query. Musashi nodded to the forest, which was at the front and to their left. A thread of smoke curled out of the trees; Hiruma realized he was close enough to smell it. "What do you suppose that is?" the tiger asked as their lion friend pulled level with them, eyes fixed on the point as well.

"You tell me." Laguz didn't light fires unless it was crucial to survival—they could see and smell perfectly well in the dark and their fur, feathers, and scales kept out all but the most persistent cold. Spring had just started, so it was still a little chilly, but not nearly enough so that added warmth was needed.

Musashi's tail swayed left to right thoughtfully. "Could be the start of a forest fire, it wasn't there a few minutes ago. It could be a traveler. A human."

Hiruma's ears perked up at the word 'human', a tic that didn't go unnoticed between the other two. "Interesting," he hummed, a grin coming on as he stalked toward the trees. Kurita loped after him, slightly worried by the expression. Musashi sighed and brought up the rear.

The trip through the forest was relatively easy, given that all three of them knew the woods fairly well. The nearer they got to the scent of charred wood, the stronger a previously undetected tang of iron also grew. That made Hiruma excited and only a little wary. Whoever this was, he was human, but he was armed and armored as well. He slowly approached the clearing where their target lay, staring at him through a gap in the brush.

He was surprisingly small, almost too small, Hiruma thought, to be much of a threat to anyone. His brown eyes flicked uneasily around him, the set of his mouth betraying his anxiety. With his knees drawn to his chest almost protectively, he ran a hand through spiked hair in what appeared to be a gesture to himself to calm down. A sword in a plain sheathe rested between his side and the crook of his elbow, the hilt easily within quick reach.

Hiruma refrained from making an inquisitive hum as he studied the boy. Musashi gave him a curious look that he returned with a shrug and focused on the stranger. The clothing he wore suggested that he was from somewhere up north, and maybe nobility, if the glitter of gold thread in the tan-colored cloth he wore was anything to go by. His boots, specifically, seemed familiar—Seibu make, maybe? His clothing, though, looked more like it had come from Ojou or Deimon, or maybe it really had been that long since he'd done business with anyone from Seibu.

The white dragon narrowed his eyes and turned away from the gap, treading noiselessly a few feet away and sitting on a fallen, half-rotted log. Kurita, while the two had been busy with observation, had settled Cerberos on softer ground and was tending to him. The wolf was regaining his feistiness, which meant he was getting better. Musashi sat next to Hiruma.

"I think he's here on business," the tiger said, keeping his voice low, "but he doesn't look like he wants to be."

Hiruma nodded, fingers tapping indecisively on the log. "Think he's a mercenary, do you?"

"What mercenary wears gold in his clothes? He's a lord of some sort, I'm assuming."

Hiruma grinned. "So you noticed that."

Musashi scoffed. "Don't sell me short."

"When the hell have I ever done that?" Hiruma raised a hand to stall Musashi's retort. "What's a kid like him doing here anyway, even if he is a lord?"

"Why don't you just ask him?" Kurita chimed in quietly, beaming down at them. "He looks scared, I think he'd like the company."

Musashi closed his mouth—he'd been ready to say the same thing (admittedly, without the last line and with a sarcastic inflection) but the lion had been quicker. Hiruma grinned wider.

"I was going to anyway." So saying, he stood from the log and forged brazenly into the underbrush with a call of, "Hey you, fucking shrimp!"

The 'fucking shrimp' in question got points for not shrieking, at least. Musashi did hear a panicked, startled yelp and a hiss of sparks before he got to Hiruma's side, staring down the point of the sword that was leveled at them. It shook a little in its owner's grip; Musashi wasn't surprised to see the boy's eyes were wide and terrified.

On the other hand, Hiruma was nothing short of impressed, and his maniac grin was showing it. This kid had incredible speed—he'd barely blinked and the sword was out of its sheathe and being trained on him. He had good skills and decent reflexes, but they were somewhat unpolished, like someone had taught him the basics and a few forms and left him to work the rest out.

The inner workings of Hiruma's mind were lost on the unnamed boy, who was recovering from the shock of having two people appear from pretty much nowhere. As he didn't know said people, he kept the sword pointed at them and tried to swallow the quaver in his voice. "Who... who are you?"

He tried not to stare as the sharper, shorter one of the two burst into rather unsettling and demented laughter. "Who are we? We're the damn natives! Who are you, human?" the pointy one asked, cunning green eyes capturing his own.

_So they're laguz_, the boy thought, and swallowed again. "S-sena. My name is Sena."

Musashi interrupted before Hiruma could say anything more, capturing the boy's attention. "Where are you from?"

"I'm an ambassador from Seibu." Sena noticed that the tall one's eyebrows shot up; he turned to the pointy one with a mumble that sounded something like 'I guess you were right'. The pointy one chuckled raspily.

"You can put the sword down," Musashi told him.

To Sena, that sounded like a very bad idea. He hefted it higher with a jerky movement of his arm. "Who are you guys?"

The pointy one smirked and Sena thought he might be amused by the display. "I'm Hiruma. That's Musashi," he said, pointing to the tall one. Sena heard heavy footfalls from behind them and flinched as Hiruma laughed shortly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "That's Kurita."

Presently, a giant appeared, casting a shadow over them with his massive height. Sena's face paled at the prospect of having to fight something that big; he hastily sheathed his sword while Hiruma howled with laughter at the face he was making, almost doubling over. "W-well met," he stammered, taking a step back.

"Is everything okay?" Kurita asked Sena, concerned at his expression.

Seeing that Kurita was unaware and Hiruma had temporarily incapacitated himself, Musashi decided to take charge. "We're just traveling, we don't mean you any harm," he tried to reassure the boy. "Our hyena friend over there—" he tipped his head towards Hiruma, who was winding down now, "—saw the smoke from your fire and got curious."

"Oh..."

"What brings a Seibu ambassador to Shinryuuji anyway?" Musashi asked, while Hiruma got his breath back and Kurita hovered over him.

"They sent me to check on the state of affairs and to offer continued peace, like I do every year."

Musashi furrowed his brow. Agon's demands had included Seibu and now that he, Hiruma, and Kurita had refused to help him take it, the black dragon was liable to come down on his goal like lightning just to prove a point. "That's not going to be any use."

"Huh?"

"If I were you, I'd turn around and tell Kid to get ready for war," Hiruma added, sobered now.

Sena gulped. "What do you mean? What's happened?" He paused, having arrived at another revelation, and added, "How do you know I work for Kid?"

"He and I are old acquaintances," the dragon replied.

"We're three of Shinryuuji's top six generals," Kurita supplied helpfully, seeing the incomprehension on Sena's face. "We were going to Seibu too, so if you're going back, we'd like to go with you."

Sena had gone very still and quiet. "You're _that _Musashi, Hiruma, and Kurita," he mumbled. It wasn't a question.

"How many others do you know?" Hiruma snapped. "Come on, shrimp, you might as well take us back with you. Agon's not going to listen to you now."

The boy sighed, already dreading what fate had in store for him now. _What have I gotten myself into?_ he thought. "Alright, we'll go. I have a friend who might be able to help you, when we get back."

"Can't wait to meet him." Hiruma gave his best winning smile. Sena shuddered and stamped out the fire.


	3. Chapter 2: Tension

**I have no words for this chapter, other than it was a pain in the ass to write.**

**Also crappy fight scene.**

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Hiruma didn't like the necessity of breaks. They were troublesome and time-consuming, and they didn't have a lot of time to begin with. He wasn't even the one who needed them. No, the cause of their increased frequency of breaks was, of course, Sena. The kid was fast, but he had little or no stamina, by laguz standards anyway. He couldn't maintain the mile-eating speed that the rest of them could carry all day for even half an hour. As a result, the entire party had been dragged to a crawl. The only thing that kept Hiruma from grinding his teeth in frustration was the fact that they'd likely snap at the roots if he attempted it. Here they were, ambling along while Agon almost certainly had healed enough to track them at top speed and to hell with whatever pain from his neck he still felt.

Hiruma made himself calm down and ran some calculations. They'd left a week and a half ago. Hundreds of miles now separated their group from the Shinryuuji capital. Cerberos was due to be fully recovered, or at least well enough to run, in another three days. Factoring in Agon's absolute fastest speed, which he doubtlessly would chase them at, the white dragon gave it four more days before the black dragon caught up. That was assuming that Agon started his hunt today, and even that was being optimistic. The man could have left the instant his wound scabbed over, for all they knew. Though, if Cerberos healed up quickly, they could put more distance between them and extend the delay to a week on the outside. But only if. Hiruma glanced at the wolf, then let out an irritated scoffing noise and turned back to where he was supposed to be keeping watch.

Kurita and Cerberos were having a quick nap, but Musashi and Sena heard. Musashi, knowing Hiruma as he did, said nothing. Sena was not as familiar, and the irked sound had come from nowhere, seemingly without purpose. Naturally, Sena was curious.

"Ah... General?" Sena watched Hiruma on the edges of his vision, praying he hadn't slipped up. Five days and he still wasn't sure how to address any one of them. His hands stilled where they had been honing his blade. Behind him, he could have sworn he heard Musashi snort.

The dragon faced him long enough for Sena to catch shades of a grin curling his lips. The human slowed them drastically, but he never ceased to be entertaining. "Hiruma." The head turned again, keeping an eye once more on the vast tracts of land they had yet to traverse.

Sena heaved a silent, relieved sigh. So, he was allowed to refer to the man by name. "Hiruma. Is... is something wrong?"

Might as well tell him now, Hiruma reasoned. It isn't like he can go much of anywhere once he knows. "Nope, everything's fucking peachy, except for one little thing."

Sena turned to Musashi; the tiger looked grave. "O-oh? What?" he asked, facing Hiruma again.

"We've got a dragon chasing us."

A sudden sensation of emptiness pulled at Sena. "What?" he repeated.

"Agon," Musashi clarified.

The emptiness now had a chill as a companion. He isn't going to listen to you, they had said. Tell Kid to prepare for a fight. Sena refrained from asking any more questions.

When they left, it was a with a greater sense of urgency than before. Kurita could smell the fear and panic radiating from Sena and could only assume that he knew now. The great lion trotted up and nudged his shaggy shoulder as gently as he could against Sena's side in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. The boy staggered to the side with a comical squeak and would have fallen if Musashi hadn't steadied him. After a time, he went back to Kurita's side and tentatively rested a hand on him, feeling a little more at ease.

Before the end of the day, the forests and long grass of Shinryuuji had given way to a broader, flatter plain of tougher and more scattered vegetation. Sena and Musashi cozied themselves on the lee side of a hill while Cerberos curled around them with a muted growl. Kurita was searching for water, Hiruma for food. Sena hunched himself into a ball and leaned on the hill, regarding the silent tiger and the somewhat agitated wolf and thinking all the while. Eventually, he chanced the question that had been on his mind since morning.

"Musashi?"

The tiger looked up from picking a few stray burrs from his sandals and the tuft of his tail. "Yes, Sena?"

"Agon... why is he chasing you?"

"That's a long story."

"What does he want with Seibu, that Hiruma hinted at?"

Musashi's brow creased in a frown. "Do you want to hear now, or would you rather wait until Kid has declared it to the whole country?"

Sena swallowed. Tough choice. "Now."

"Putting it simply, he wants your land. He didn't say why before he tried killing us, before you ask. Hiruma might know, but I wouldn't ask him."

Sena pursed his lips, grasping the hilt of his sword. "I see." Musashi busied himself again. Sena was left to brood over this new information until Hiruma came back and dropped into his hands what appeared to have been a jackrabbit before the dragon caught it. It was already skinned and roasted; Sena reflected that being able to spit fire was handy outside the battlefield. Kurita returned minutes later with their waterskins filled and as soon as all of them had eaten and drunk, they were drifting cautiously to sleep under the light of a dying sun.

* * *

It was three days after that, when the landscape had changed fully into the beaten, cracked, scraggly-planted flats of Seibu, when Agon finally found his quarry. Hiruma felt it as a foreboding prickling on the back of his neck, strong enough to warrant a surreptitious scan of their surroundings. It yielded nothing; he turned on his heel and walked backwards, passing the action off as a chance to check the sun's meandering journey in the sky. There was still no sign of Agon. Narrowing his eyes against he blinding light, he considered. It was mid-morning already. At this rate, Agon would certainly catch them by evening.

He took stock of his group. Musashi walked alongside him, hands in his pockets and tail lifted some. His expression told Hiruma that he felt like he was being watched too. Kurita, unburdened by now but still in beast form, lagged a few feet back with their human charge. Sena picked off the sand spurs that clung stubbornly to the lion's mane, lost in thought. Cerberos had resisted all attempts to help him onto Kurita's back, instead situating himself by Hiruma's right. He couldn't run long distances yet, Agon's claws had seen to that, but a steady walk was no trouble at all.

Releasing a sigh, Hiruma turned back around. It wasn't like there was anything he could do to stop the impending battle. That wasn't to say he wasn't planning for it. Within the hour, he had the scant strategy they could use against Agon in their given locale figured out and had informed the rest of them. Onward they trudged, but now with a very different mood.

* * *

The Seibu capital was in sight when they heard the roar. Sena, already keyed up, spun in place, hand flying to his sword and wrenching it free from its scabbard. A large, dark figure loomed on the hill they'd crossed not four minutes prior, its head tilted up and a span of leathery wings stretched to their full spread. Though the earth didn't tremble under their feet, Sena imagined it might and took an involuntary half step back, fear flooding his limbs like a poison.

In the instant the dragon's roar petered off, an answering one from much closer by split the air, and this time the ground did shudder. Sena closed an empty hand over one ear: the noise was frightening. When he turned, he nearly started; Hiruma towered over him, ten feet of savage guile in white. Even as he watched, Musashi was completing his own transformation, the last vestiges of his human body disappearing.

The black dragon bounded off the summit, thundering across the space between them in less than a minute. Sena tightened his grip on the sword, flinging himself away from the dragon's deadly charge. He saw Cerberos retreat with him as he'd been ordered, before the two dragons met each other head on. Blinded with rage, Agon didn't notice Kurita and Musashi on his left, both leaping with claws and fangs bared. The lion fell quicker, scoring a hit on the dragon's hip in the same moment that Musashi found purchase on the skin between the joints of his wing and shoulder. Agon felt the pinprick of claws and a convulsion seized his body, much like the snap of a rug to shake out dust. The tiger lost his grip, landing awkwardly by Agon's tail. Before he got his footing, the thick appendage hit him across the face, a result of the black dragon having to twist to avoid Hiruma's strike at his wings and Kurita's bite at his thigh.

Sena was suddenly very relieved to be small and uninvolved. This was a battle fought on a scale he had no idea how to surpass. He was clueless as to how to go about even attacking Agon, much less killing him. He crept backwards, eyes still riveted to the melee and heart hammering on his ribs.

The black dragon screamed, making the boy tense up again; Kurita came away with blood on his mouth. Agon shoved Hiruma, sending the white dragon back a few heavy steps. It proved long enough for Agon to spin and hit the lion with the last bit of his tail, but not long enough for him to follow it up with a blast of fire; Musashi leaped for his throat from beneath and when Agon reared back with a memory of phantom pain, Hiruma butted him savagely in the shoulder, right arm swinging around to carve bloody tracks in his chest. Agon responded by clawing the length of his left arm, rendering it almost useless to him. Blood streamed down the limb, flying off the tips of his claws as the white dragon screeched and was shoved again, farther back this time.

Agon went on the offense now, keeping Hiruma at bay with thrashes from his sturdy tail and the occasional snap of teeth. He fended off Musashi and Kurita with sprays of fire and punishing slashes of his claws. Kurita got close enough in so that he was difficult to attack, but not so close that he could attack with impunity. Musashi was just nimble enough to avoid the worst, the ends of his fur catching fire before he shook it out. His side was scored in a few places, and he knew that would slow him enough to put him at Agon's mercy if this didn't end soon.

Before that happened, Hiruma got lucky. He'd managed to grab the tail keeping him in check and jerk its owner slightly off-kilter, head coming forward swiftly to bite down. The pain prompted another scream from Agon, who whirled faster than Hiruma could react and slashed the white dragon across the muzzle. The blow's force twisted Hiruma's head to the side, exposing a neck; Agon roared and leapt for the opportunity. Suddenly, the air in his lungs was gone and he felt something crack in his chest. Kurita had headbutted the dragon with all the strength he could muster, stopping his advance long enough for Hiruma to recover.

From there it was a more one-sided battle, and both parties knew it. Agon sustained abuse that would have killed Musashi and was unable to mount an effective resistance himself, hampered by his fractured rib and the fact that it was three against one. At last he forced himself free of their assault and fled the way he came, realizing that his life was worth more at present than this vendetta. He was moving quickly enough to outrun them, even wounded as he was; nobody made an attempt to follow him.

As soon as he was out of sight, the three generals receded into their human forms, setting about the task of dressing their injuries with a grim silence. Hiruma undoubtedly had the worst of it; Kurita and Musashi were lucky enough to escape with barely anything.

Slowly, Sena unfroze himself from his shivering, terrified state. Calming his tremblings gradually, he made his way to Hiruma, who licked the blood from the four gashes on his lips and mopped up what was left where his tongue couldn't reach. Sena held his hand out for the bandages and Hiruma let the swordsman wrap his arm tightly. He sensed some discontent, maybe even malice from the dragon, though, and opened his mouth to speak. Hiruma beat him to it.

"You could have helped us, fucking shrimp."

Sena recognized anger in the dragon's tone and the inquiry died, replaced with words of defense. "He'd have killed me," he protested, and was chagrined by the quiver in his speech. "I can't fight something that big, I don't know how."

"Idiot! That's exactly the reason you can fight him, you're small! He can't hit you as easily, especially with your speed! Did whoever the fuck taught you how to use your sword teach you that? Did you notice at all that the fucking old man barely took a hit and he's the smallest of us? Well?" Sena flinched at the onslaught; he felt very certain that if Hiruma's arm wasn't lame, he'd be getting throttled.

"Hiruma," Kurita murmured, voice tinged with disapproval and empathy. "Don't be so hard on him. I'm sure he wanted to help, but he was just scared." He placed a calming hand on Hiruma's shoulder and flashed an encouraging look to Sena.

"You've both got valid points," Musashi said before Hiruma could snap at Kurita, "but Hiruma's right this time. You should learn to get used to fighting laguz, Sena. You never know when you'll have to kill them in battle, it may be sooner than you think." The boy bowed his head, chastised.

Hiruma sighed, subdued. "Right, no time for a nap. There's still daylight so we're still moving." He stood up and looked towards the capital. Sena noticed the tiger and lion transforming again and gulped, knowing exactly what was coming next. "Alright, fucking shrimp." Hiruma pointed to Musashi. "Get on."

Sena hesitantly swung a leg over Musashi's back, sitting ramrod straight and holding as best he could with his knees. Hiruma took one look at him and rolled his eyes. "He's not a fucking horse, shrimp." Before Sena could ask what he was doing wrong, Hiruma was at his side. He felt a jerk on his hips, sliding him back to sit lower down, a shove on his shoulders to bend him so that his face touched the crest of fur at the tiger's shoulders, and hands pushing his own into the ruff by the tiger's neck. He wove his fingers in and clung tightly. Musashi growled and he loosened the grip immediately while Hiruma laughed.

The dragon jumped on Kurita's back and assumed a similar position, only using one hand to grab a hank of the lion's thick mane. He glanced back at Cerberos; the wolf looked about as irritated as a wolf could look. Cerberos was not to follow at the breakneck pace they were preparing to ride at, but to plod along until he had strength to run and catch up to them.

"Let's go." Hiruma grinned and jerked Kurita's mane; the lion lurched into a surprisingly fast run. Under Sena, Musashi's muscles bunched. Sena's heart was in his throat before he had time to whimper; the tiger shot forward like a stone from a sling, snatching the breath from his body. He clutched, white-faced, at Musashi while Hiruma's cackling rang in his ears.


	4. Chapter 3: Arrival

**Petenshi: Hiatus time. My brain hurts.**

**(Bijoux had no notes to add)**

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The three-man guard stationed at the main gate to the capital city of Seibu weren't sure what to make of the sight. It barely lipped the horizon, it wasn't terribly large, and it looked to be moving.

Tuning out the worried mumbling of his fellow officer, one of the footsoldiers glanced up, calling to the archer on the parapet. "What's it look like from up there?"

"Some kind of weird storm. It's too small for any threatening force of cavalry."

The man who had inquired snorted. Like there was such a thing as a threatening force of cavalry in this country. Seibu's cavalry was the best there was, even beating out the much-lauded Ojou. "Even from down here I can tell that much. Dust devil, you reckon?"

"It's coming this way, if it is."

"You don't say."

"Next shift'll tell us, if we don't find out ourselves."

As it happened, the strange thing had gotten close enough to resolve into a shape by midmorning. The archer, squinting against the brightening noon light, picked out the outlines of whatever was causing the dust cloud. "You awake down there still?"

"Not sure," was the half-yawned reply.

"There's two somethings in the middle of that dirt. They're bigger than men, but I don't know if they're horses or not."

Both men on the ground perked up, heartened by the fact that there were only two of them. If it came to a confrontation, they could definitely handle two. The taller soldier, the senior of the two lancers, held out a hand for his companion's eyeglass. On receiving it, he trained it on the center of the quickly growing dust cloud. A few seconds later, he nearly dropped it in shock.

"Laguz," he breathed, and the man beside him tensed.

"Laguz, sir?" The archer on the wall above looked sharply down at him before drawing an arrow and nocking it, watching the dust cloud like a hawk does a mouse.

Though it was peacetime still, their reactions were understandable. Laguz were formally accepted in all countries, but they tended to keep to themselves in preference to mingling with the rest of the world. Even Seibu, its border country, didn't see much of the elusive shapeshifters aside from the occasional diplomat and passer-by. Inevitably, rumors flew and were subsequently blown out of proportion into tall tales and superstition.

So the three soldiers, born and raised on horrifying stories of the laguz and their ruthlessness, waited until they were within firing distance before striking. An arrow hissed toward the larger of the two; it had been meant as a warning shot, that they were in bow range and shouldn't try anything stupid, but it had missed a few inches and was now on a path for the great beast's eye. The lion had somehow anticipated the shot, though, and swerved to the left, leaving the missile to bury harmlessly into the ground.

The tiger had seen this and roared as he approached. They were close enough now for the guards to see now that they were carrying passengers on their backs. The situation looked to be a four-on-three confrontation, sparked by a panicked shot. The archer cursed himself, knowing that he may have condemned the men on the ground to death. The footsoldiers seemed to sense that, hands tightening on lances, moving well away from the walls to avoid being trapped against them.

The archer on the wall had another arrow nocked and was at half draw when they heard the voice, almost lost in the noise of the laguz advancing. "Don't shoot!" it beseeched. All three halted, puzzled and wary. Was it just them, or were the two beasts slowing down?

"Don't shoot!" it called again, much more clearly this time. An odd motion drew their eyes; they realized that the person riding the tiger was waving wildly with one arm, the other holding him onto his mount. The voice was familiar to them and it took less than a moment for them to figure out why.

"Ambassador!" the younger one cried, astonished. The laguz had drawn up and stopped just out of spear's reach, sides heaving and mouths open to pant; they had a clear view of Sena as he sat up, looking a bit worse for wear.

The older soldier held up his hand as his man opened his mouth, forestalling what was no doubt a torrent of questions. "Back so soon, Ambassador? We were told you weren't due home for another two weeks at least." He eyed the unfamiliar faces suspiciously, his attention focusing on the one who rode the lion. He was a lanky thing, bandages covering one arm to the shoulder and four raw-looking lesions going from his chin to the bridge of his nose. He watched their proceedings with an air of humor. When he saw the man was staring at him, which took not long at all, he smirked and gestured to Sena with his eyes. With a start, the man realized he was answering.

"I was... but..." Sena was out of breath from being jostled so much by Musashi; nevertheless, he stayed on the tiger's back because he didn't trust his legs to hold him. "Something's come up. You have to let me in."

The junior guard jumped to give the command to open the gates, then hesitated. "Will your... friends be coming in?" he inquired carefully, eyes on the long fangs that curved from Musashi's upper jaw.

Sena nodded. Still, the soldiers were reluctant. There was something off about that guy on the lion, aside from how angular and pointed his face was. Possibly his smile, it bordered on insane.

No sooner did they have the thought than the man laughed. It was an unexpectedly high and wheezing sort of noise, especially when compared to his normal voice, which sounded like he had some sand in his throat. "You don't trust us?"

They couldn't answer. Sena fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure who he should defend.

Their lack of response made the man laugh again, grin stretched wide enough to reopen the wounds on his lips. It didn't seem to bother him; he simply licked the blood away before speaking. "In that case, take a message to Kid."

All of the guards bristled; disconcerting presence or not, this stranger had no right to demand anything out of them. The archer was about to explain that in just as many words before Sena intervened.

"I can't go in without them. If you won't let us in, please, take the message in my name." The ambassador's eyes were pleading.

The senior guard knew an order when he heard one and sighed defeatedly. "Very well. What is it?"

The man riding the lion grinned in the most unnerving way. "Go and tell him that the Devil's dropped by for a visit. He'll understand."

* * *

Mushanokoji Shien, better known as Kid, stared at the dragon from over the steeple of his fingers. When he received the message, delivered by a young soldier with confusion and fear in his eyes, it took all his self-control not to show any more reaction than a shocked raise of eyebrows. In less than an hour, the four had been escorted with speed to the capital building.

Kid watched Hiruma watching him and tried to organize his thoughts. Normally, Sena would have been in front of him instead, but he had requested leave to go and search for an old friend. Eventually, the man sighed. "A real piece of work as always, Hiruma. You never could resist being melodramatic."

Hiruma laughed his short, barking laugh. "I've told you before, don't do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Speed was of the essence and I wasn't going to wait for the fucking shrimp to go here and back without us. He'd have to explain the situation and then you'd have to order a slower man out here, and we'd probably still be sitting out there if you had."

Kid conceded the point silently, knowing all to well how true that was. "What was so urgent that you had to come here and see me in person?" He flicked a finger up at Hiruma's face. "Does it have anything to do with that?" he asked, indicating the ugly lacerations.

Hiruma's face instantly lost all traces of joviality. Kid resisted the urge to shiver at the whiplash mood change. "Damn right it does."

"Who gave you those, then?"

"Agon."

Kid remained immobile for half a minute to digest the new information. "Why? I thought you two were friends. Or at least, working together for mutual benefit."

The dragon scoffed bitterly. "Not anymore. He wants to expand his borders and he's going after you to do it. Fucking dreads asked me to help and I declined." A smirk turned the corner of his mouth up. "Another reason he's so keen on getting rid of me is that I've got something on him that he doesn't want anybody else to know about."

"Oh?" Kid leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"Give me some time to know for sure. In the meantime, I suggest you start gearing up for war."

Kid inclined his head assentingly, eyes fixed on the paper before him. "Where were you planning to go after this?"

"Ojou."

"Logical."

"One more thing, fucking eyebrows."

Kid suppressed a smile; he'd been wondering how long Hiruma was going to hold back on that nickname. "What?"

"I want to take the fucking shrimp with me."

"You what? Why?" Kid was unable to feign nonchalance; that was the last thing he'd expected to hear.

"I want to take Sena with me to Ojou." Hiruma grinned. "It'll be good for him. Trust me."

Most people wouldn't trust Hiruma as far as they could throw him in animal form, but Kid was not most people and didn't raise the point, even in jest. "He'd better come back here, Hiruma Yoichi," he warned. "That's all I ask."

"He will." Hiruma turned, seeing himself out of the room.

As the door shut, Kid slumped in his chair with a deep breath. "This always happens," he mumbled to himself. "When things go too well for too long, they always go horribly wrong in the blink of an eye." Heaving another sigh, he started to work on the written order to marshal the army.

* * *

Sena, frankly, was thankful to be back. If the sudden appearance of and battle with Agon hadn't been enough of a jolt to his system, then the impossibly fast sprint through the night to clear the last few hundred miles between there and here had been. Though the old saying 'grace is embodied in a feline' was undeniably true, the felines in question most definitely did not make for comfortable riding. With the exception of his face, Sena's entire front side was magnificently sore; his spine felt like one long line of pain from the jerking and bumping it had sustained. Moving was an arduous task, but really, he was glad to be taking it slow for the moment.

The street he was on right now was soothingly familiar; he'd grown up here before he'd gotten a job as a courier for the government. There was the gentle hum of idle conversation all about him; one or two people called his name.

He waved back with a bright smile, noticing one increasingly louder voice. Try as he might, though, he couldn't pinpoint the source. He only realized it was coming from behind him when he paused long enough for whoever it was to slap his shoulder in a friendly manner, coupled with a greeting: "Why're you back here so early, man?"

The blow, unfortunately, triggered an electrical surge of hurt from every nerve in his arm. Sena tensed up with a hissing intake of breath, which he let out by way of a meek "Ow..."

The white-haired boy raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hit you that hard."

Sena smiled fondly and straightened his shoulders back out. "Nice to see you too, Riku."

Riku grinned and walked alongside him. "So how was Shinryuuji?"

"Terrifying. You'll probably hear all about it later today," he murmured, glancing at the sword belted to his friend's waist, almost identical to what Sena himself wore.

"Oh really? You get into a fight?"

"Kind of."

"What with?"

Sena shivered. "Don't want to talk about it."

"Ah-hmm," Riku intoned, intrigued now. He poked Sena's arm; the brunette winced. "Did who or whatever-it-was cause all of this?"

"No, that was from... riding." It wasn't totally a lie.

Riku snorted. "Nice try, they didn't send you out with a horse and you're terrible at riding them anyway. Seriously, what happened?"

"I told you, riding. I never said I rode a horse."

The swordsmaster paused, frowning in concentration before jogging to catch up with him again. "Tell me how that's supposed to make sense?"

Sena grimaced when he put his foot wrong and jerked an aching thigh muscle. "Did you see the laguz coming into the city around noon?"

"Who didn't?" Riku glanced sidelong at his friend.

"Did you see the tiger? Musashi?"

"You're kidding."

"I'm not."

Riku made a huffing sound. "That's pretty awesome," he admitted grudgingly, a distinct note of jealousy in his tone.

Sena picked up on it and tried to take the edge off. "It wasn't great, it actually hurt a lot. I had to almost lay on him. And there weren't reins." The swordsmaster rubbed his still faintly-cramped hands.

The other boy hummed. "So where are you off to now?"

"Right here, actually..." Sena blinked, surprised at how far down they road they'd gotten when they were talking. Riku glanced up at the number plate and hummed again, pulling the door open and stepping inside. Sena hurried after him.

"Hey, Mamori!" the white-haired boy called, "There's someone here to see you!"

A young woman done up in the gown of a local cleric came around the corner, her expression bemused. "Rikky?" She looked past him to see the other arrival and smiled brilliantly. "Sena!"

The brunette smiled back sheepishly. "Hi, Mamori..."

She went to hug him briefly and ended up squeezing a bit too hard, setting off another flare of pain in his bruised body. He made a choked noise of discomfort and she drew back.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, knowing he was on pretty thin ice now. Riku took a few steps back. "J-just a bit banged up."

Immediately, Mamori was all business, dragging him into the back room and shoving him onto one of the beds used for the long term patients while she rifled through a bunch of cabinets. "Where are you hurt and how did it happen?" she nigh demanded, selecting some of the stronger pain-killing herbs. "Riku, would you boil some water?" The swordsmaster shrugged and went to start a fire.

Sena was trying to salvage the situation. "No, Mamori, really, I'm fine. Nothing's broken or cut, I'm just bruised."

"Bruised where?" The rifling didn't stop; she had about five different strings of medicinal plants out, along with a roll of cloth.

The brunette sighed. He knew for a fact that Mamori wasn't this fanatic over any patients except himself and Riku (when he allowed it). The special treatment wasn't unwelcome, since he knew Mamori loved them both like brothers and they loved her like a sister, but it was taxing sometimes. He figured that, since it had been a good five weeks since he'd seen her last, he wouldn't protest any further. "My whole front, arms, and legs."

Mamori nodded and flashed a smile to Riku when he brought the water in a few minutes later. The white-haired boy hastily set the clay pot on the counter, blowing on his scorched hands. The girl paused to give him an aloe leaf before crumbling one of the strings of herb into the bubbling water. After a bit of consideration, she crumbled another, longer string in and pointed at Sena. "Take your shirt off, please."

He did, cringing at the groan of protest his body put up. When he studied the damage, he saw a mottled, faint discoloration that stretched all the way down his body. Riku came close to take a look, interested, and made a sympathetic 'oof' sound, followed by a wince of his own.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you fell flat on a rock from about six feet up."

The bandages finished soaking in three minutes and Mamori had Sena skilfully wrapped in another six. A blissful feeling of relief seeped into his body; he raised his arms above his head, pleased at the lack of pain. "Thanks, Mamori."

She smiled, putting away her supplies. "You're welcome." She turned to Riku. "I'm sorry it's taken me this long to ask, but was there anything you needed?"

"Nah, nah. In fact, I should probably get going. Kid will want me back in time to start the daily drills." He stood up and waved to them both with an easygoing smile. "See you, Mamori. And you, Sena." Their replies followed just short of a door closing.

Sena sat awkwardly for another minute before getting to his feet as well. "Mamori, do you still have that staff from a while ago?"

"Hm? Yes, why?" she answered, a little distractedly.

"Good. I might bring someone by later who needs it." After all, he thought, heading out after Riku with a goodbye, he'd been useless in the fight. The least he could do was make up for it.

* * *

It took a bit of wheedling, but Kurita finally managed to convince Hiruma to go with Sena to his healer friend to look at his arm and face. He was now sitting in a chair, being stared at by Mamori. "How did this happen?" she wondered aloud, having never seen those types of wounds before.

Sena didn't know if he was allowed to say exactly what happened, so he started to try and put her off the subject. "Mamori, that's—"

Hiruma finished for him. "None of your fucking business." Sena flinched, but Mamori didn't seem at all offended by the coarse language; rather, she flashed him a disapproving look and held out the heal staff, which had started glowing at the end. Hiruma made a low hissing noise as the slashes on his face stitched themselves back together, reaching up to scratch the itching flesh.

Mamori hurriedly grabbed his wrist. "Don't, you'll make new ones." Hiruma's head snapped up to glare at her and Sena's breath caught. The dragon jerked his wrist away with a soft snarl, but the itching had faded. He sat patiently but with obvious disdain as she unwrapped his arm and examined the inflamed gashes.

"This time it'll hurt," she warned, the staff glowing again. Hiruma tensed immediately, teeth baring enough to show a ring of gum. He actively fought the overwhelming urge to claw at his arm or to knock the healer girl senseless.

In less than half a minute, the job was done and Hiruma flexed his arm experimentally. It moved smoothly and without pain. He shot Mamori a look, neither malicious nor grateful, but rather curious. He stood and dragged Sena out of the house, ignoring the protests of both.

* * *

"You're coming with us and we're leaving tomorrow, fucking shrimp."

"I'm what?" Sena paled even further when Hiruma laughed again.


	5. Chapter 4: Journey Northward

**I had this chapter written for a few months but only just now got around to typing it. I'm so lazy, I'm sorry.**

* * *

The sun had not yet deigned to show its face before Sena was preparing to leave. He worked by the light of an oil lamp, preparing a small sack of essentials: rations in case the generals came up empty-handed on food (unlikely, but you never knew), his waterskin, a whetstone and oil for his blade, basic medical supplies, and a change of clothing.

He was to leave all effects of his state behind, including his gold-trimmed tunic, and travel in the guise of a common sellsword. It was better that way, Kurita had told him when he appeared to Sena earlier in the night. They wanted to attract less attention, he said; Sena didn't bother mentioning that Hiruma alone was more conspicuous than he ever could be. Kurita, he suspected, had been sent to pass along the message, and he didn't doubt that Hiruma already had a plan regarding that.

Sena cinched the drawstrings of his pack a mite tighter and buckled the top flap down. It was light still, plenty of room for anything useful he might pick up along the way. He looked out the window as he strapped his sword around his waist. The curtains were drawn. He paused for a moment, then picked up the oil lamp, taking a good look at his room. It was furnished only slightly more comfortably than standard military barracks, but Sena didn't mind that. His job kept him away, often for months at a clip, so he was used to not having his creature comforts.

He might not see this place again.

Sena sighed, slinging the pack over his back and carrying the lamp to the end table by the door, blowing it out. Orders were orders, he thought, groping for the doorknob in the darkness until he finally got it open. He wanted to cross neither Hiruma nor Kid. He had to do this, plain and simple.

* * *

The sky had brightened into twilight when Sena left the government building he lived in. Hiruma wanted to get out of the city before dawn broke, so he started at a jog, making quick time through the sleepy streets of the city. The sun had just started peeking over the hills to the east when Sena made it to the northern gate, passing the first of the day shift guards. The three laguz were waiting a few feet outside; he called softly to them, unsure if he was late or not.

"You're late." Hiruma glanced away from the east and at him.

Well, that answered that.

"Only by a few minutes," Kurita admonished. "Did you sleep well, Sena?"

They were moving now, making small talk as they headed north. Sena kept up a stream of minimally awkward conversation with Kurita; the swordsmaster was very grateful for the lion's friendliness, talking with him was much better than going silent. He was a little more reluctant to strike up a conversation with Musashi and he hardly dared talk to Hiruma at all, unless he'd been addressed first.

Sena was halfway through telling Kurita about his scarce past dealings with Ojou (yes, he'd been there before, but only twice and nowhere near a big city; he hadn't been so high-ranked then) when the giant held up an arm to stop him from going farther. He caught himself before he walked into it, looking up at the lion's face.

"Kurita?"

"Over there, Sena. Someone's coming."

Sena noticed then that Hiruma and Musashi had halted and were facing in the same direction Kurita was looking in now: back to the city. He turned as well, peering back at the mile or so they had covered. A horse was coming towards them at what looked to be full speed. It was just leaving the gates, so it was too far off for Sena to make out the rider.

"Kurita, can you see who's on it?" he asked, glancing up.

The lion shook his head. "The glare from the sun coming up is too strong." Kurita looked over his shoulder. "Hiruma, what do you think of it?"

"If they're hostile, they either don't know who they're dealing with or have a death wish."

"Do you want me to take care of it?" Musashi asked. There was an unusual hissing quality to his voice; Sena turned to see that his canines had grown far more pronounced and hung an inch or so past his upper lip when he closed his mouth. Along with that, a dappled pattern spread along his skin, one that matched his beast form's fur.

"Only if they attack," Hiruma replied, keeping an eye on the anonymous figures. "Otherwise, we're waiting here for them."

Sena loosened his sword in his scabbard while he wracked his brains trying to figure out who the riders possibly could be. All the while, they drew closer. When the sun's glare finally shifted, Sena made out the one at the reins and couldn't suppress an astounded exclamation.

"Riku?"

"Somebody you know, shrimp?"

"He's an old friend of mine. He taught me how to fight."

To that, there was no response, but he could feel Hiruma staring at the back of his head. When next he looked, Musashi had lost his beastly traits (barring his tail and furry tapered ears, which were ever-present) and he and Hiruma were much more relaxed. Sena let the sword fall back into its scabbard and waited with the rest of them.

Riku took another five minutes to make it all the way there, bringing the horse to a decidedly unprofessional stop with many cries of "Whoa, whoa!" The animal, a proud bay battle-charger, snorted and tossed its head before it would submit. Riku jumped down, hiding the wobble in his legs.

"Nice of you to wait for us," he said, helping none other than Mamori down from the horse. She was carrying something on her back; a pack much like Sena's own, he saw with a little bit of confusion. In her hand was her heal staff.

"What are you two doing here?" Sena asked incredulously. A spark of hope kindled when he mulled over the pack. "Are you coming with us?"

"No they're not," Hiruma snapped before either of them could get a word in edgeways. Sena was about to ask how exactly he knew that before a look at his eyes told a different story. Hiruma simply wasn't going to let them join.

"Well, you're half right," Riku said. "I'm only here because Mamori begged me to take her out here." The white-haired boy gave Sena a rueful look. "Kid's going to tan my hide when I get back. Had to skip morning drills to do this. She just wouldn't stop." Sena gave him a pained smile; both of them had experienced that.

"Sorry, Rikky." Mamori smiled apologetically.

"And what about her?" Hiruma brought them all back to business.

Riku stepped back, making a pretense of checking saddle girths that didn't exist, seeing as Mamori hadn't given him time to put tack on the horse. He knew what Mamori was about to bring up and he sensed that he was not going to be welcome in the conversation.

Mamori stepped forward and looked the dragon in the eyes. "I'm here to keep an eye on Sena and make sure he isn't killed." Sena balked at her words; he'd assumed Mamori has been okay with this whole venture, but evidently she was not.

Hiruma curled his lip derisively. "According to who?"

"To me." The cleric stood her ground, jaw set. "You need a healer anyway. What if you were all injured like his arm was-" She gestured to Hiruma here "-and you couldn't move, or protect Sena?"

In the silence that followed, Kurita spoke. "She has a point, Hiruma." Musashi nodded.

Hiruma didn't answer, instead walking up to Mamori and leaning down to glare directly into her eyes. Most people were sent scurrying by that look, Sena knew. Mamori squared her shoulders and glared right back, her grip tightening on the white wood of her staff. The dragon saw no fear in her eyes, and her determination was already very clear.

Hiruma's face split into a wide, fierce grin and he straightened up to toss his head back with a laugh. "Alright then, sister, but keep out of the way when we're fighting."

"'When' you're fighting?" Mamori asked sharply, and Hiruma's laughter redoubled as he set off for a knoll not too far away.

Riku took his leave immediately after, wishing both of them the best of luck. Sena watched him to before Hiruma barked at them and he fell in step beside Mamori. "I'm glad you're here," he told her. "We can really use the help of someone like you."

"All the same," she mused, "I wish you weren't going. You just got back from a mission, you need a break."

"Come on, kiddies!" Hiruma called over his shoulder, interrupting Sena's reply. "Time enough for introductions and catching up when we get up that hill!"

Sena found it highly irregular that Hiruma would call for a break so early. "Are we stopping there?"

"Of course we are, fucking shrimp."

"But why?"

"You'll see."

The crest of the hill provided them with a comfortable place to bring Mamori up to speed. She was unaware of the impending attack, as she and Riku had left before Kid had spread the word to the general public. She took the knowledge gravely and started trying to work out a solution.

"So we're going to Ojou to warn them too?"  
"Yep."

The answer was definite and there were no other questions at hand. They all sat in tranquility as the sun came farther up.

Finally, Sena had to ask. "What are we doing here, Hiruma?"

"I told you, you'll see."

"He shouldn't be too long, I'm sure," Musashi added, looking off in the direction of the capital. Whatever he was searching for, Sena couldn't see it, and he resigned himself to being held in suspense until 'he' showed up.

In actuality, he only had to wait around thirty minutes, a long, bass howl floated on the air towards them and Sena remembered instantly who they had been missing.

Joining Hiruma on the hill's slope, he watched Cerberos streak like a dirty comet towards them, traveling at speeds that exceeded Musashi's. A look at the dragon's face revealed that he was grinning. The wolf slowed and stopped, panting, in front of them.

Hiruma turned around and headed back up. "Fifteen more minutes, then we're moving." Cerberos and Sena trotted back up with him; the other nodded or hummed acknowledgement.

Mamori eyed the newcomer warily. "Who is this?" The wolf swung its head toward her, locking gazes for an instant before resuming his lope. Mamori wondered what that look meant; the face of a beast was inscrutable.

"He's Cerberos." The answer to her question came not from Sena, as she had expected, but from Hiruma. However, that was all he did: beyond that, he did not elaborate on what that was supposed to mean to her, if anything.

It did make her study the wolf more closely in an attempt to glean information from him. She got nothing, except that he was large and tan-furred, presumably of ill temperament, and had a strange stutter in his step. The last one she paid close attention to; as a healer, she sympathized with every being that had injury, no matter if it was a human or an animal, or something in between as it was with Cerberos. She rose to her feet and jogged around to the wolf's front, blocking his progress. He snarled.

Sena watched her, fearful. He didn't know Cerberos very well at all and was unsure what that noise stood for. "Mamori?" he asked hesitantly. He watched the fur on Cerberos's shoulders stand on end, lip curling back to reveal frightfully sharp teeth.

Mamori ignored both of them and ducked around to Cerberos's neck. His body tensed and he started to turn, likely to snap at her, but Hiruma rapped the wolf sharply on the snout. He snorted and shook his head irritably.

The dragon raised an eyebrow when confronted with Sena's and Mamori's puzzled stares. "What? Get on with it, the dumbass is still hurt, isn't he?"

Sena glanced down at Mamori, who after a moment of silence had knelt and was digging through the thick fur. She grimaced and pulled her hand away, showing everyone present her fingers, which were stained red. Hiruma's eyes slit dangerously. Sena guessed he was displeased and was going to be having private words with Cerberos when he had a chance. At a quick request from Mamori, Sena brought her heal staff; she took it and pinned back the fur surrounding the injury. It had sealed over, but only a little, and it seemed the hard running that Cerberos had done to catch up with them had torn it open.  
The bulbous end of the staff glowed a soothing blue; Cerberos's growls grew louder and he shifted uncomfortably, snapping his teeth shut around an imaginary limb. The cut stitched back together and the marred muscle beneath realigned itself. Mamori stood, rubbing her forehead with a weary air; Sena knew that using magic to heal made her tired and that she preferred not to use it except in the most extreme circumstances. He went to get her a bite to eat while Cerberos tested out his newly-healed leg. The limp was gone. He made as close to a ponderous noise as a wolf could make and stared at Mamori for a moment more before waving his tail side to side, almost as if to say, 'She'll do.'

* * *

As eager as Hiruma had been to leave, he showed no desire to move their pace any faster than a moderate walk. Not that any of them were complaining. The last few days had been taxing on most of them, and while they still had to move, they no longer had to move as quickly.

"Fucking dreads is going to take more than a week to get back to the Shinryuuji capital," he explained when pestered. "He'll have to wait while he heals up, which, since he's unfortunately like us-" the dragon waved an arm over himself, Cerberos, and the other two generals, describing all of the laguz "-won't take very long."

"We don't have any healers," Kurita clarified when Mamori asked. "None that can use magic, anyway."

"And even if we did, fucking dreads would still take another week at least to get back out here, by which point we'll be through Deimon and in Ojou."

Sena and Mamori exchanged alarmed glances. "We're going through Deimon?" the swordsmaster questioned, his words a mite taut.

"We don't have time to go around and get into Ojou through the border directly by Seibu; that'll take two weeks or worse, even if you rode us from here to there. There's more water in Deimon than there is in this country. Deimon is tiny, it won't take long to run through. Every man is helpful when you're out to depose a tyrant." Hiruma fixed him with a pointed stare. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't go through Deimon, and it better be a fucking good one, fucking shrimp."

Sena averted his eyes and bleakly considered. On a map, Deimon was a skinny pocket of a country that sat snugly between Ojou and Seibu, accounting for nearly half of the border between the two. Its inception was rooted in war - in years long past living memory, save those of the laguz, when Seibu and Ojou had not yet risen as prominent powers and the lands between the fierce desert people to the north and the shapeshifters to the south were in constant turmoil, the many common men oppressed by this neverending conflict appealed to a powerful, sympathetic nobleman and won his aid. Taking advantage of the confusion, their forces struck out at the flanks of both armies, eventually carving a large portion of the land for themselves to live in peace. Seibu and Ojou paid no mind to the errant nobleman, as they were busy battering at each other in the last throes of their struggle.

When the treaties had been finalized, they realized that, in their neglect, the nobleman had seized much of the territory that they originally had owned and set about to take it back. With the full force of both armies attacking from both sides, the captured land quickly dwindled into a narrow strip. Most of the good folk, the farmers and serfs that had incited the rebellion, had left to settle in Seibu and Ojou once peace was certain, with nobody the wiser. Only the most stubborn, ambitious, and black-hearted stayed to fight alongside the nobleman's fast-depleting forces. As a result, when the battle was at last resolved, Deimon had become a country populated in majority with thugs and roughnecks. It tended to be a wholly hostile locale, where nobody would think twice about attacking a man, even if he had nothing of value on him.

The most curious thing about Deimon, though, was the way these battles had ended. Old legend said that all three factions had simply stopped fighting when Seibu reached the strip of mountains that now formed its south border and Ojou crossed the inhospitable mire that was its north border. Written accounts by those present, what is legible of them, anyway, say that a glittering, snowy dragon had come down from on high and coaxed both armies to turn around, threatening death and destruction if the orders were not heeded. The people in those days were not as learned as they were now, and took it as a sign from a god to cease their efforts and had complied.

Dragon. A white dragon. Sena's heart squeezed painfully and it was a few minutes before he remembered he had a question to answer. "I can't think of one," Sena admitted.

"Didn't think so." Hiruma continued walking and Sena stared at his back.

"Hiruma?" he asked suddenly, because he absolutely had to know.

"Yeah?" The dragon didn't turn around.

"Were you in Deimon, when the three armies were between the mountains and the mire?"

"Yeah."

The swordsmaster swallowed sharply. "Then, are you the one responsible for Deimon existing today?"

To his surprise, he heard Musashi chuckling fondly and saw Kurita smiling nostalgically. Hiruma's head cocked and he glanced over his shoulder, a wide, pleased grin stretching ear to pointed ear. "It's about fucking time somebody figured that out. You humans are so fucking forgetful, and then you're slow to boot."

Sena ignored the slight to his race and shared a smile with Mamori, who looked as shocked as he could ever recall seeing her.

And they pressed on, until the distant mountains appeared in the horizon and the sun hung low in the west.


End file.
